


I Believe In You

by maryjo24



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5559326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryjo24/pseuds/maryjo24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is the fearless, idealist leader of a revolution. Jensen's doesn't really believe in the cause. But he does believe in Jared. Together, they change their world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Believe In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonepitaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/gifts).



> This is a gift for the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange. I hope you enjoy my interpretation of one of your prompts.

BEFORE

A heavy boot slammed the foot of the narrow plank, pivoting its opposite end violently upwards with bone-jarring recoil. Lashed to the length of the board, the helpless man sputtered as the action of the fulcrum pulled his head out of the tub of frigid water beneath. Desperately he sucked in stuttered breaths of oxygen to his starving lungs, his chest heaving up and down from the exertion. “Please,” he begged once he found the breath to talk, a single word rasped out amongst jagged coughs.

“You know what we want, this ends when you tell us where they are, or it ends over your dead body.”

“Can’t, don’t know…” The words came out amidst sobs that wracked his tortured body. The denials were false, all in the chamber knew it, nothing but the pretense kept them at it. As battered and worn as he was, the prisoner still played the good worker, loyal to the State, knowing that the longer he could hold out, the better the chances were for the rest of his group to make a clean escape.

But it was getting so much harder to keep things straight, his mind breaking and so much more confused than when it had begun. In between the formal interrogations, endless rotations of the State Security Forces guards kept him from any rest, always berating him, beating him, using him; there seemed to be a competition amongst the cadre to be the one that finally got him to answer the questions.

He wanted to rest, so desperately, but he didn’t know how long it had been, no windows, no days, no nights, had it been long enough? He’s a good worker, hail to the State, nothing, he doesn’t know anything, please rest. A head bent over his, he hadn’t realized he was babbling, how much had he said? Had he said that he didn’t know what they wanted?

“Sure you do,” his interrogator cooed, “Just a few words and you can rest. Although I know a slut like you must be enjoying our visits but even whores need to sleep. I’ll even make sure you get a blanket to cuddle up with. Not what you’re used to I know, but better than what you got now.”

But with the oxygen deprivation slaked for the moment and his head clearing, Jared Padalecki found firm ground once again and even as the damning “Go fuck yourself” left his cracked and bleeding lips, his interrogator read the intent and slammed a heavy fist to his prisoner’s jaw.

“Hold on there, you idiot!” A figure who had, up to that moment, remained silent pulled himself from out of the shadows.

“Be careful! Too much of that, you’ll turn him into a martyr. And keep the bruising below the neck! Don’t want the workers rights rabble rousers to have any cause to question his treatment here.”

“Yes sir!” The interrogator jumped to attention as Under Praetor Jensen Ackles pushed by him. Jensen knew that the deference was due only to his rank, and not much more. Jared had seen to that, his capture practically red-handed, a blemish to Jensen’s otherwise spotless record. He knew that behind his back and even more recently to his face from the Praetor himself, his judgment and loyalty was in question. And Jared, who he’d pulled from the field and taken to his bed, had taken advantage of his position and had no doubt leaked countless State secrets to the rebels. Why, the Praetor had demanded, had Jensen not been more careful in his selection of a bed warmer? And why had he not known what was going on right under his nose? And why was it that it wasn’t him that had uncovered the worker’s rebellious activities? Difficult questions for which his only redemption rested on breaking Jared.

Bending over the unconscious prisoner, he pushed Jared’s head over to the side to get a closer look at the bruise blooming red on his chin. Yet another painful flower to join numerous others in various hues of purples, blues, and browns scattered over his former lover’s body. The past few weeks had definitely taken their toll both physically and mentally. Countless days of sleep deprivation, enforced by rotating shifts of guards, and the ongoing physical torture had worn Jared down and he knew that Jared was hanging on to bare threads of his tattered mind.

As Jared began to rouse, Jensen stood back. “Keep at it, he’s close to breaking and make sure you don’t kill him in the process, his trial’s already been scheduled and we need a live body, not a corpse.”

“Yes sir!” The interrogator acknowledged, a sneer lacing his tone even though he was wise enough to keep it off his expression.

Jensen barely managed to keep his temper in check at the insolence. Taking out his frustrations and anger would accomplish nothing at this juncture.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Sam! Come quick, Jared’s on the news feed!”

Samantha Ferris looked up from the charts she was reviewing in surprise. There’d been no news of Jared since his trial. Their last glimpse of him was the news feed as he was led out after being sentenced to death for crimes against the State. The death sentence was expected, and his tribulations in the weeks before that sentence was delivered were known to some extent, leaked by friends they had within the State Security Forces. But to see him in the flesh – his face pale, dark circles under his eyes, hunched over and struggling to remain upright, the stumble in his gait – had been a shock. They’d of course pushed the workers’ rights activists to demand explanations but in the end, he was just a laborer, convicted of high treason, and the activists would put themselves on the line only so far.

As she rushed the anteroom, the frozen image of Jared Padalecki on the screen was devastating. They’d known he wasn’t dead, at least not by intent, after all that his execution is going to be prime time fodder for the privileged to enjoy along with their evening meal. But the prevailing hope had been that he’d died during further questioning or some punishment gone wrong. But his appearance now, dressed in the bright orange jumpsuit that signified his prisoner status, dashed those hopes. They say the camera adds 10 pounds, and if that’s true, then the emaciated appearance of the man was a frightening testament of how months of captivity had worn him down. 

The Jared they all knew in the peak of health was of the strong, muscled field stock and bronzed from years of labor under the blazing sun of the Central Valley. Even after he attracted the attention of the Under Praetor and moved from the fields to the Under Praetor’s bedchamber, he still maintained a regimen of high physical activity, easy enough to justify as it seemed the Under Praetor appreciated the physique. An appreciation that Jared and the Resistance been quick to take advantage in a ploy as old as time, cultivating the Under Praetor as a source of information by whatever means necessary even if those means were between the sheets. Jared was surprisingly accepting of a role that was basically a camp whore, said there was no shame in whatever means it took to achieve freedom and equality. And he liked to joke that at least the Under Praetor wasn’t hard on the eyes or a slouch in bed.

Jared moved swiftly from the bedchamber to Under Praetor’s inner circle. With access to the inner circle, trust grew and so did the access to sensitive State information. And so had hopes that the Under Praetor could be swayed to the cause. During their one of their last clandestine debriefings, Jared confidentially told Sam that Jensen, as he called the Under Praetor in private, was not entirely devoted to the State and had revealed during an alcohol-fueled discussion on human rights that he wasn’t sure he believed that one human had the right to own another. That would have been a major coup for the resistance, the second highest-ranking member of the SSF brought over to the cause, and Jared went back undercover to try and make it happen. Two months later, Jared was arrested. What had caused it to fall apart and had led to Jared’s capture was still unknown.

Sam was brought back from her memories as someone restarted the feed and an inappropriately perky on-site reporter began her report.

“Today worker PJ820719 made his first appearance in court since his sentencing hearing back in August for crimes against the State.”

“Jared, Jared Padalecki! He has a fucking name!” Sam heard someone, sounded like Steve, yell from the back of room, not minding that the voice of the State couldn’t hear him. But the news correspondent continued on.

“During his trial, PJ820719 was revealed to be one of the leaders of the vicious terrorists that have been perpetrating numerous violent acts against the State, both her People and properties, for years. PJ820719 was elevated from farm labor to trusted service in the household of Under Praetor Ackles. But he abused that trust and used his elevated status to aid the terrorists. Through the diligent efforts of our SSF, his reign of terror was brought to an end.”

The screen split into two, revealing the studio news anchor, nodding in rapt attention as the correspondent continued.

“Today, the State in her mercy commuted the sentence of death passed on PJ820719 in August, to Status Declension.”

Several gasps and angry words were heard round the room, Status Declension stripped what few rights a worker had and reduced them to straight property, no longer even recognizing them as sentient. And here it was being touted as a blessing. An owner could do whatever he wanted to his property and not even the Workers’ Rights Association would be able to intervene with Jared’s treatment.

“Shawna, that’s quite a fortunate turn of events for the worker. What brought the Tribunal to change their decision on the sentence?”

“Rob, the official statement is that it is in consideration of his cooperation during questioning that aided the SSF’s September raid on the Juniper compound, reportedly the terrorist rabble was hiding out there. It is believed that the remaining leadership were casualties of the explosions that destroyed the compound. The sources of the explosions are still under investigation as the intent of the SSF was to recover as many workers as they were able for re-education. The initial reports are that the terrorists themselves planted the explosive devices and self-detonated them in a mass suicide. It is a shame that so many misguided lives were lost, but sad confirmation of the complete disregard for life and the evil of these terrorists.”

Sam jerked her attention back as another question came from the news desk.

“Well he’s a very lucky boy. Is there any information on who might be taking him in? Or if PJ820719 will go through re-education and modification?”

Sam was sickened by the images on the split screen, the near glee in the expression of the desk reporter and the slow smile that spread across the face of the on-site correspondent. Modification ran the gamut from purely cosmetic to permanent disfigurement. The worst of the state-sanctioned treatments were designed so that the slave was unlikely to be a threat in the future either themselves or through future generations. 

As a child, she’d known of only one person who’d been subjected to that, a full modification. Before the modification, she remembered Joshua as a brawny, gregarious field laborer who always seemed happy, maybe a bit on the rowdy side but nothing openly rebellious. Barely out of his teens, he was constantly active and still played field games with the children during labor downtimes, and she’d enjoyed many a piggy-back ride sitting astride his broad shoulders. He had been her first crush. But something had happened and he’d been taken away. 

When Joshua had been returned several months later, he was radically changed. He shuffled his way between tasks, and even under the encouragement of the overseers’ whip, he could only work up to a slow, stuttering run, his feet barely rising a few inches off the ground. His loss of mobility was the result of the severing of his Achilles tendons. His body no longer spoke of strength and virility, his skin just an ill-fitting tunic over a diminished shell of what he once was. His appearance was smaller, softer, and even somewhat effeminate. The cause of that was whispered amongst the adults and she would learned when she was older that was due to castration. He never spoke again, either vocally or with written word. His tongue had been surgically removed leaving him with nothing but grunts and whines to communicate. And his fingers were twisted and gnarled from repeated breaking, he could barely grasp a tin cup, much less a pencil, without his face twisting in pain. He’d lasted less than a year before he found the way and means, and killed himself. The day after his death, she’d run away from the compound and found her own path to the resistance. 

Memories of Joshua flooded her with sadness and regret as Jared’s smiling, dimpled face juxtaposed over Joshua’s dead-eyed, expressionless one. She closed her eyes, her arms wrapped around herself as she waited on the answer, half hoping yet half expecting the answers.

“Very good questions, Rob, but nothing known for sure yet. I’ve heard talk that Under Praetor Ackles may put it a bid for the return of PJ820719 in but the Under Praetor has not made an official statement of intent. The Tribunal’s final ruling is expected to be published this afternoon, and it is expected that re-education and full modification will be stipulated as a requirement.”

The sky turned black as Sam collapsed to the ground amidst cries of horror and despair.

NOW

Jared started as a door clanged from somewhere outside his cell, the scrape of metal on metal signaling some prisoner was likely about to receive some personalized attention. Footsteps clip-clopped on the concrete, growing ever closer, and with a groan, Jared pushed his feet up under him and pulled himself up with the aid of the chains that shackled his arms to the heavy iron ring embedded in the wall high above him. They were early he thought, it couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d last been the recipient of their tender attention. But he knew that most of the cells in this wing were unoccupied so it seemed likely that he was the intended target.

Muscles protested, bruises upon bruises, never healing as each and a cracked rib or three screamed he’d be damned if he let them know just how badly he hurt. Better to face them, even better to tower over them, then to cower on the floor looking every bit the lower caste drudge they took him for. He locked his shaking knees, letting anatomy keep him standing, trembling in anticipation of the beating they were about to deliver. Now that he was basically property, less than human, the SSF was far less restrained in his treatment.

Sure enough, the footsteps stopped outside his cell door. The electronic lock disengaged with a soft snick, and then the door opened revealing his once benefactor, the Under Praetor himself. He shook his head as the Under Praetor closed the door and leaned against the wall across from him, his arms crossed over his chest. A man born to wear a uniform, Jensen looked as good as ever in the Security Forces standard issue khaki. His rank entitled him to much more elaboration to the cut and presentation, braid and ribbons to adorn the drab color. But Jensen had disdained the display, and preferred to stay as close as he could to the general ranks. It was one of many things Jensen said and did that had given Jared hope that he could work the man and turn him to the cause. But the sneer on his face marring his features tells a different story today of how wrong Jared must have been.

“Come to gloat, say I told you so?”

“Now, that’s just petty. You really think I’d do that to you, after all we meant to each other?”

Jared winced at the sarcasm that dripped from the words but he wouldn’t apologize for what he knew was right. He sighed, “So really, why are you here?”

Jensen ignored answering that question, instead pulling his phone out of his pocket. He quickly thumbed in a code and read the incoming message. Nodding, he glanced up to the corner of the room and Jared his line of sight. It was then that Jared realized that the red light on the video monitor was off.

“Okay, let’s get you out of these.” Jensen moved across the room and stood next to him keying a code into the shackle around one of his wrists. The cell door opened again and a state officer was walking through. Jared yelled a warning. 

“Don’t worry, Chris is with me.” Jensen’s lieutenant smirked as he tossed a pile of khaki and brown down on the ground next to him.

“You sure you want to do this, Jen? It’s not too late – we could kill him now, say he tried to attack you.”

Jared’s head jerked up and Jensen laid a comforting hand on his leg, “Damnit Chris, really?”

Lt. Christian Kane shrugged, “He’s just property, no one would blink, probably would figure you were just collecting your just retribution.”

“Yeah, and the guard out there with a goose-egg on the back of his head would tell a different story. I’m done here, no turning back now.” Jensen glanced back up to his long-time friend, “I don’t think anyone saw you though, you want to back out of this, I won’t think any less of you.”

Chris scoffed, “Right. Nah, I’m in as deep of you. Count me in for the long haul, always wanted to change the world. Or at least die trying.”

“Somebody wanna tell me what’s going on here?” Jared was following the exchange and it seemed he was being rescued, as long as Kane didn’t talk Jensen out of it, “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but if I get a vote, I’d rather not die!”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, princess,” Chris snickered, “That is if you were wearing any.”

“Chris, not helping!” Jensen rolled his eyes as Jared dropped his newly freed hands down to cover his crotch.

“Hey, figure if I’m going to commit high treason, I get a lot of leeway on where I get my jollies.” Chris rolled his eyes, “Fine, get princess dressed so we can get out of here. I’ll make sure the coast stays clear.” Chris stalked back out of the cell, letting the door slam in his wake.

“So this is a rescue?” Jared ventured.

“Yep, that it is. C’mon, before he gets in much more of a snit, let’s get you in this uniform and we’ll get you out of here.”

A FEW DAYS PAST

“So, we’ve been sitting around here for days, thumbs up our asses, doing nothing. When are these friends of yours going to show up?” Chris groused as he stood and stalked to look out the window of the remote cottage Jared had led them to after they’d broken him out. “Not that I mind this little vacation, but we can’t stay too long in one place. State Security’s got feelers all over and we’re sitting ducks.”

Jensen nodded and reached across the table towards Jared, before pulling his hand back. They were on odd footing at the moment, Jared used to be his, had served him, had told him that he cared for Jensen. But now, Jensen wasn’t completely certain what had been real between them and what had been a role on either of their parts. “He’s right, Jared, if your friends aren’t going to come, we have to move on.” 

Jared smiled as he shook his head, keeping his own hands clasped in front of him. If he was as conflicted as Jensen, he was better at keeping it to himself. “Just a little longer, probably tomorrow. But don’t worry, we’re safe here. If the SSF shows up, the network will let us know. We should get some rest.”

Chris scowled with frustration, “I’ll take first watch, you two go ahead. I’m too keyed up to sleep right now.”

Rising, Jared extended his hand to Jensen, “Come to bed with me?”

Jensen wanted to, but opened his mouth to say no, as he had each of the previous nights. Jared beat him to it though, “Just to sleep?”

And Jensen wouldn’t deny that, he had missed Jared and may not know where they stood, but it would wait another day. He took the offered hand and followed Jared to the sleeping quarters. 

The next morning though he would find himself at the wrong end of several rifles, kneeling on the cottage floor next to Chris, his hands clasped behind his head, a fresh bruise blossoming on his cheek. Jared was on the receiving end of many hugs which told him that the resistance had found them. He hadn’t convinced himself that was necessarily a good thing.

A FEW YEARS LATER

Jared stood staring out the window of the penthouse suite, an honored guest of the State this time, the new State, unlike a few years earlier when he was instead a prisoner of the State’s Security Forces. So much had happened, so much more than he could have hoped.

On the streets below, the city was just waking up, people making their way through the overnight snowfall, to home or to jobs, he wouldn’t know. But at least, they were doing it freely, with dignity. Gone were the elitists and the laborers, the overseers and the workers, all were finally equal and free to make their own choices, good or bad. The strife and uncertainty of the revolution was past them, now they were rebuilding their world, hopefully in a better way. It had taken a few years but it was nearly done. In less than a day, everything that they had been struggling for would be formalized.

“Here, it’s cold,” Jared smiled as Jensen came up behind him, wrapping his arms around him, pulling a blanket over their shoulders. Jared leaned back, enjoying the skin to skin contact, Jensen’s body warming him within a fleece cocoon. Closing his eyes, he hummed with contentment as he folded his arms over Jensen’s and for a bit, they enjoyed the near quiet of the awakening day, swaying to the ambient sounds.

Jensen’s lips pressed softly against the base of his neck, the breath of his words tickling the skin there. “You did it.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Jared warmed in it. Although Jared wished he would stop down-playing his own role. Until they’d brought Jensen in, they hadn’t realized just how much the resistance had been missing military expertise. It hadn’t happened overnight, Jensen was still seen as elitist and not to be trusted, but he’d eventually proved himself. And there had been the added bonus that his defection had created a division within the State itself, his defection giving others the courage to take that final step as well.

“We did it, all of us.” Jared twisted in the embrace and wrapped his arms around Jensen, “All of us.” He repeated, “We made a difference.”

Jensen shook his head fondly, it was an old argument, “Nah, not me, I was just along for the ride. Figured if anyone could do it, it would be you. I may not have believed in the cause, but I believe in you.”


End file.
